8/6/2019 Darby Crash

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DARBY CRASH

(got me inspired centuries after his poetical death)

flow

8/6/2019 Darby Crash

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Born in the land of plenty… for what?

he was a prophet with the spirit

of a reptilian black panther.

He knew the time of the world

and measured his options very well

to drive the poisoned blood to an end.

Poet from the streets of liquid drug syringe

flowered it with the songs of rebellion

against an establishment of darkness

as reflected it in his chains and boots.

He never really needed nothing

cuz he knew… he was also a god

a lesser god among a prominent apocalypse.

Family of distress among his search for religions

brothers and sisters socially running on empty

how many songs more could then need to show a decline

of a whole western civilization of stirred souls

that purchased a non-return ticket

from oblivion to the self destruction of bloody cells

products of a movie of the few into deceived actions and greed.

8/6/2019 Darby Crash

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Boots of leather and dark sole hugged with chains

walking streets pregnant with the phlegm of empty nights

from bad intoxications in past lives

he came to pay a bill of incarnations

before he reborn again

as a Star Seed, clear about his next future.

How many needles visited his stirred soul

in order to heal those scars of bitches in the couch of his guts

he looked for love inside the wrongs of a generation

inside the internet chords of a lost link 

but one thing was real… 

the changes he imported

to the skin of our planet

to help in the metamorphoses

of an incomplete dream that searches perpetuity.

He is gone but his spirit still flies in circles

over the dirty streets of Richie Zippy Dagger

ever over dreams of forgotten hates

beyond the hopes of a friend in warm dances of love

at front the background of a new Cosmic Energy.

8/6/2019 Darby Crash

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Dragon lady -using his own words… in domesticated relationships

with the mad machine of the media blitz

out of the tunnels that he crossed before the hang

where the toll of right and wrong meet

inside the slow process of evolutions of empty videos

to save our souls or save his own,

cuz that creature in his back, never went away

he is the fall guy inside his truthful silence in quietness

living in a rectory of sin, like he said

against all currents of evil

throwing away himself to the crew for a poem

giving the established shoves to dig his tomb

searching alone for something unknown… then

but clear now in our times, from the occult verses of the suicide machine

that watched he dying with the cold smile of a

“one more down”… but she exploded.

Now lemme give you a little piece of forecast:

I’ll be with you in the thought beyond

where there is no more the power of the lords of the strings puppets

outside that house of fortune

with our dementia in the higher level

because, what we’ll do… won’t be any more… secret-secret.

FIN